


all the pretty things that we could be

by theundiagnosable



Series: brooklyn nine-nine post-eps [2]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, post ep, this is pure fluff???? what is with me???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theundiagnosable/pseuds/theundiagnosable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake calls from the living room, “Pretty awesome today, huh? We helped a baby get born.”<br/>“I burnt ten fax machines.” Amy corrects, pulling open her allotted drawer in his dresser and searching for sweatpants. “<i>You</i> helped a baby be born.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the pretty things that we could be

By the time the entire squad’s had a chance to coo over the baby, find their way home from the hospital and, in Amy’s case, file an accident report about Hitchcock and the pneumatic tube, it’s nearly midnight. She’d be dragging herself down the hall even if it wasn’t so late – it’s been a long day, the kind where she wonders if she would’ve been better off sticking to her art history degree.

Nothing more than wondering, of course. The look on Terry and Sharon’s faces when they were talking about Ava, the look on _Jake’s_ face when he was holding his godchild. Ugh, her mind right now; it’s exactly the kind of sentimental cheese-fest that her brothers would never let her forget.  

She raps her knuckles against the door. It swings open almost immediately, revealing a sleep-drunk Jake, halfway through getting his pajamas on.

“Ames!” He shoves an arm through the sleeve of his t-shirt, grabbing her hand with the other and pulling her through the doorway. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

Amy nearly laughs. She can count the nights per month when one of them isn’t at the other’s apartment on one hand. “Come on, you knew.”

Jake gives her a crooked smile, like he knows he’s about to say something charming. “Hoped.” He tugs at their still-joined hands, pulling her close enough that he can press a kiss to the tip of her nose. He’s practically bouncing up and down, still giddy from the day’s events. This, with the addition of his pajamas and the fact that he has one sock on and one off, makes him look particularly young.

With what she’s sure is a hopelessly fond smile that she doesn’t bother trying to hide, Amy pushes her free hand through his hair, cupping his cheek and standing on her toes to capture his lips with hers. He responds enthusiastically, smiling against her. _God_ , she likes kissing him, like, never-want-to-kiss-someone-else likes it.

Before she can say this or something equally embarrassing, Amy pulls away. Jake leans after her, almost instinctively, and she laughs at the look on his face.

“I have to go change. Two minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake pouts as she disentangles herself from his grasp. “You can’t keep your hands off me, I know.”

“In your dreams, Peralta.” Amy calls over her shoulder as she heads for the bedroom. She’ll never admit it, not under pain of death, but he sort of has a point. Today especially, because she thinks there should be something illegal about letting Jake be around kids due to the frankly offensive amounts of adorable.

Oh, god. She’s using the word ‘adorable’ to describe him, now. She’s so far gone.

As if he’s reading her mind, Jake calls from the living room, “Pretty awesome today, huh? We helped a baby get born.”

“I burnt ten fax machines.” Amy corrects, pulling open her allotted drawer in his dresser and searching for sweatpants. “ _You_ helped a baby be born.”

“I did.” Jake echoes, not sounding any less thrilled than he did when first holding the baby. There’s something like wonder in his voice when he says, half to himself, “She was so small. I thought I was going to drop her.”

She knew that already – she’s never seen him hold anything as gently as he did baby Ava. Amy smiles to herself, glad that he can’t see her. “You did good, dummy.”

Jake scoffs, and she can hear the springs creak on the couch as he sits down. “Yeah, right. Literally everything that could’ve gone wrong did. Netflix?”

Amy hums in agreement. “You dealt with it. That’s the point, I think.”

He’s silent for a few moments, like he’s considering her words. “Know what, though?”

Amy pulls on a tank top. “What?”

“I never want to meet one of Holt’s ex-boyfriends again.”

“Ugh, I know.” Amy comes out of the bedroom, pajamas on, and sinks onto the couch next to him. “Who let him work with pregnant women?”

“And the beard! Dude!” Jake moves over obligingly, offering a corner of his throw blanket to Amy.

“Right.” She agrees, nodding. “Remind me never to inflict that kind of trauma on our children.”

She has just enough time to register the slightly odd look Jake gives her before she realizes what she said and freezes.

“Oh,” she says, with a dawning sense of horror. “Oh, no, that- that doesn’t count as me asking. Not that I’m- I mean- oh my god.” This is spiralling from embarrassing to traumatic real quick, and she can feel herself going bright red, so she decides to cut her losses and tugs the blanket up over her face.

“Shut up,” she says, even though Jake isn’t saying anything.

 She can’t entirely blame him, because talking about future children when they haven’t even moved in together is probably article one in the ‘crazy girlfriend warning signs’ manual. Oh, and things were going so well.

She’s just about decided never to come out from under the blanket when Jake finally speaks.

“House of Cards or Arrested Development?”

Amy frowns, then remembers that he can’t see her. “What?”

“Or we could do a movie, I guess-”

“No,” she says, without emerging from under the blanket, because he still sounds calm. “You’re not freaking out. Why aren’t you freaking out?”

It takes him a second to respond, and when he does, if she’s not mistaken, it sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “Should I be?”

“I basically just…” She struggles to find a word to capture the gravity of the situation. “Propositioned you!”

This time, he really does laugh. “Okay, first of all, we passed ‘propositioned’ on, like, our first date. Also, any embarrassingly eager thought you’ve had, I can pretty much guarantee I’ve thought it first.”

She scoffs, muffled by the blanket. “Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious!” Jake tugs the throw out from her grasp, joining her underneath and turning it into a sort of tent. He leans close, earnest and utterly sincere.

“Like- okay, before our first date? Charles and I spent _three hours_ picking out what I should wear.”

Despite herself, Amy smiles. “You didn’t.”

“I totally did, swear to god. And when Gina asked me how it went, I said ‘magical’. Wasn’t even being sarcastic.”

Amy laughs. Jake grabs her hands, lacing their fingers and looking, for the first time, nearly hesitant.

“I like you a lot, is what I’m trying to say here,” he says, and the look on his face makes Amy forget to be embarrassed. “Also, I’m a little insulted that you think I’d let scary beardy man anywhere near Peralta junior.”

“Santiago junior,” Amy corrects without thinking. And, just like that, it’s just another conversation, any residual tension gone. She meets Jake’s eyes, and not for the first time, is a little overwhelmed by everything she sees there. He looks at her like- well, like she looks at him, and she knows firsthand what that means.

For a few moments, they just sit, blushing like lovestruck teenagers under the blanket. Then, almost as an afterthought, Amy says, “I like you a lot too, by the way.”

Jake smiles, big and toothy, like it’s the best thing he’s heard in a day of best things. “Can we get out from the blanket now? I think there’s yarn in my mouth.”

Amy pulls the blanket off of their heads in response, taking the opportunity to hoard the entire thing on her side of the couch. Jake gasps, feigning offense.

“What would beardy man say, blanket hog?”

Amy rolls her eyes, allowing him a tiny square of the blanket. Jake gives a contented sigh, settling into a comfier position and toying with the remote control until she meets his eyes.

“I’m going to make fun of you for this forever, y’know.”

“Stop,” she groans, shoving the blanket at him. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I’m _eternalizing_ this moment,” he says, with relish. “This story’s getting told to our kids.”

He says it, all casual, like it’s nothing at all, scrolling through the Netflix queue and pressing play on Parks and Rec because he knows it’s Amy’s favourite. It doesn’t feel like nothing at all, though.

It feels, thinks Amy with a warm feeling in her chest, like everything, maybe.


End file.
